


A Caged Bird Never Sings

by qwertynerd97 (Daffidill23)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: A PSA from your local trans writer: gender is fake and I do what i want, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, And are highly valued by courts, Gen, Its easy because hes friend shaped, Jaskier bounces through the universe collecting friends, Will I change their names to match their genders? NO, Will I continue to use 'gendered' terms like witch even though the characters are genderbent? YES, Witchers are all women, and are widely disliked, and mages are lone wanderers, society's reactions to witchers and mages are swapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daffidill23/pseuds/qwertynerd97
Summary: Witchers are the prize and envy of every court; witches, on the other hand, are a necessary evil and a blight upon the Continent.  Or at least, that is the story that people tell.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	A Caged Bird Never Sings

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I saw [an absolutely gorgeous femme!Geralt cosplay](https://one-time-i-dreamt.tumblr.com/post/628790947927457792/one-time-i-dreamt-toss-a-coin-to-your-witcher), and while my first thought was “oh no her makeup and perfectly coiffed hair would DEFINITELY get ruined at the first monster attack”, my second thought was “a Continent where the social prestige (and gender) of witches and Witchers was swapped would be SUPER interesting”. With that in mind, my fancast for femme!Geralt is, of course, one-time-i-dreamt, since that is who inspired the story, and my fancast for masc!Yennifer is the Superman version of Henry Cavill (because its funny)

Witchers are the prize and envy of every court; a Witcher can dispatch any monsters threatening your kingdom, and look flawlessly beautiful the entire time. They are like the well-trained falcons that some of the nobility bring with them on hunts - glorious to watch in action (though a bit savage), and faultlessly loyal to those who feed and housed them. Or at least, that is the story that people tell.

Witches, on the other hand, are a necessary evil. They lurk about the Continent, using their unnatural habits to dispel curses and weave spells. Most will only turn to the witches when they are truly desperate- their crops withered for the second season, or their illness was thought incurable. After all, they may fix the problem you asked for help with, but who knows what they do while in town, or what they might take with them when they leave, retreating to Arutuza for the winter. Or at least, that is that story that people tell.

Geralt has been the Witcher of Cintra for many decades, verging on a century. She has served the court well in that time, dispatching griffins and wraiths, all manner of monsters that the queen pointed her at. (When the queen declared that elves were a monstrous scourge upon her land, Geralt did her duty and removed them, and if that removal tended more towards helping them flee the kingdom than slaughter, well, what the queen did not know could not harm her)

But a Witcher is not there simply to fight; they also exist to dazzle the court with their prowess and beauty. So Geralt has attended far more banquets that she has ever desired (she desires 0 banquets; they are incredibly tedious and have far more old men with roaming hands than can possibly be healthy for her sanity). Princess Pavatta’s betrothal feast was likely to be much the same as all the ones before it, especially as Queen Calanthe had already determined that her daughter would marry Crach An Craite of the Skellig Isles.

Queen Calanthe and Geralt arrive late to the banquet, as they had been out hunting a kelpie in one of the lower provinces. (The fact that it was a province on the brink of rebellion, and that the kelpie was an excellent excuse to march a military force through, well, Geralt kept that thought to herself.) As the queen marched up to her place at the high table, refusing to shed her armor, Geralt heard the whispers of “the Lioness and her Wolf” pass through the various tables of lower nobility. Geralt leaned herself against one of the many pillars in the Great Hall; while she would need to be at the high table, sitting at the queen’s left hand for the actual feast, Her Majesty did not mind if Geralt stayed out of the way while the lower nobility mingled.

As was her habit, Geralt mainly kept her focus on the high table, watching the people who approached with their marriage offers. The corner where she was standing offered a direct line of sight to any nefarious deeds, and she could leap into action far faster than any of these petty lords might anticipate. Her focus was not so narrow that she could not notice someone approaching her, however, and she turned and leveled a baleful, amber glare on the man leaning up against the wall next to her. 

“Can I interest you in some sweetbread, m’lady? The taste is as honeyed as the glow of your eyes.” The bard winked and held out a tray of rolls, smiling flirtatiously.

Geralt grunted, taciturn, and turned away from the young man. In her experience, bards were fickle things that would flit off at the first sign of disinterest - sure, sleeping with a Witcher was an aspiration for many, but bards were often after an easy tumble, and there were plenty of ladies here that could give him that. Sure enough, the bard soon wandered off for greener pastures, just as Queen Calanthe called Geralt to the high table.

The Witcher took her seat beside the Queen, glad that she was not required to shed her armor for the sake of propriety. The Queen, however, had taken recess to change into a gown, grumbling as usual about the necessity. As she re-took her seat, she dipped her head down to whisper to Geralt.

“Keep your steel at the ready, Witcher.” Her voice, soft as it was, spoke of a command and not a request. “If all goes to hell here tonight, I shall count on you to strategically remove certain  _ irritants _ that may present themselves.”

Geralt nodded briefly. “As always, I serve the royal family of Cintra.” Princess Pavetta glanced up at her, and she smiled reassuringly. Pavetta was as much her duty as Calanthe; Witchers served a kingdom for generations, and it was not unlikely that she would serve under both Queen Pavetta, and under any child she might have well.

The final suitor approached the table and made his offer. Once he bowed away Queen Calanthe waived for the feast to begin. The bard that had flirted with Geralt earlier struck up a song on his lute, and Geralt groaned softly under her breath as the strains of The Fishmonger’s Daughter filled the hall. Queen Calanthe rolled her eyes, but Princess Pavetta seemed delighted; the bard had been her request for the banquet. Apparently, he was an up-and-coming singer on the Continent, and he had been hinting for a while that he was planning to write his own songs, which Pavetta hoped he might showcase tonight.

As the interminable amount of feasting drew to a close, Queen Calanthe nodded subtly towards Lord Eist Tuirseach, who tugged his nephew, Crach An Craite, to his feet. Before they could approach the high table, however, a man dressed in full armor and helmet burst through the doors of the great hall, rushing for the high table. Geralt’s hands flew to the pommels of her swords, but the intruder simply stopped in the middle of the hall.

“Forgive my late intrusion, Your Majesty, and for the misunderstanding with your guards.” The knight bowed deeply. “Please! I come in peace. I need but one moment of your time. I am Lord Urcheon of Erlenwald and I have come to claim your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“A knight… of no renown… from a backwater hamlet… who dares to enter my court without revealing his face?” Queen Calanthe snarled, clearly enraged.

“I apologize, Your Majesty. A knight’s oath prevents me from revealing my face until the sounding of the twelfth bell.”

Lord Eist, who was still standing, took three quick strides over to the knight, and with a muttered “bollocks to that”, pulled the knight’s helmet off, revealing a humanoid-hedgehog.

Calanthe’s head whipped around to face Geralt. “Witcher, kill it.”

Geralt stood reluctantly, unsheathing her steel sword. “Your Majesty, this is no monster, merely a knight under a curse,” she muttered softly.

“I order you”, the Queen shrieked, and Geralt bowed her head once, before vaulting over the table.

The knight made no move to run away as Geralt slowly advanced. He merely squared his shoulders and looked Queen Calanthe directly in the eye as he uttered the words that would change the course of Fate.

“Lioness of Cintra, I come to claim what is rightfully mine! Pavetta. By the Law of Surprise.”

Geralt halted. If the knight was bound to Pavetta by Law of Suprise, then he was just as much a part of the royal family as the Queen and the Princess. Before any other duty, Witchers were sworn to protect members of the royal family, and so Geralt lowered her sword.

Queen Calanthe hissed in rage. “You’re as useless as any man in this room!” She stood up, gesturing to her guards. “Slay this beast!”

The guards rushed for the knight, halberds lowered, as Princess Pavetta cried out a sharp “No!” at the high table. Geralt, almost unconsciously, raised her sword to block one of the halberds that were pointed at the knight.

Queen Calanthe slammed her hands down onto the table. “Someone kill that knight!”

Chaos broke out across the Great Hall as guests and suitors took up weapons. Geralt fell into the rhythm of defensive battle, blocking one blade with her hilt and sliding around to take the next cross-wise against her armor. She stood back-to-back with the knight for a moment, until a third figure slid in beside them. 

“The Law of Surprise has been called.” Lord Eist declared. “You kill him… you kill me.”

Calanthe stepped out from behind the high table and grabbed a guard’s sword, her face twisted in rage. As she reached the center of the Great Hall, though, she parried a blow that was about to fall on Eist.

“Stop!” she bellowed, and then again, “Stop!”

With a clatter of swords and spears, the battle that had raged for mere moments came to a screeching halt. Princess Pavetta threw herself over the high table and collapsed into the knight’s arms. Geralt sheathed her swords, relieved that her duty to protect the royal family would no longer conflict with her duty to obey the Queen.

“Duny,” the Princess whispered, “I told you to stay away.”

Lord Duny hugged her close, and then knelt, bowing to the Queen.

“Your Majesty, I was cursed as a young boy. My whole life a living misery until the day that I saved your husband, King Roegner, from certain death. By tradition, I chose the law of Surprise as payment. Whatever windfall he came home to find… would be mine.”

Queen Calanthe swore viciously as Princess Pavetta and Lord Duny told the tale of their meeting, and of falling in love. When Eist supported the two, claiming that fulfilled destinies were what kept the world spinning, the Queen rounded on Geralt.

“And my Witcher, who defended me against monsters of every fang and claw but would betray me in this, are you afraid of destiny too?”

Geralt shook her head slowly, curls tumbling back into place. “I may not believe in destiny, Your Majesty, but I do believe that a promise made must be honored, as true for a Witcher… as it is for a queen. My promise is to protect the royal family above all else, and I have kept it.”

At Geralt’s declaration, Queen Calanthe handed her sword to Lord Eist, and offered a hand to Lord Duny, leaning in close. Geralt saw her draw a dagger out from her skirt and dove for it, but the Witcher knew she would be just slightly too slow to stop the Queen from slaying Lord Duny. Before the Queen’s knife could meet Lord Duny’s throat, though, Princess Pavetta threw back her head and screamed.

Everyone in the hall went flying backward towards the walls, save for Duny and Pavetta. Geralt managed to twist around and grab the Queen as both flew backwards, protecting the Queen from flying furniture and glass. Though she had never experienced the effects of the Roar of the Lioness herself, Geralt knew that the gift ran in the blood of the Cintran royal family and that the best way handle it was to simply wait it out, for no mortal could stand against it. After the whirlwind settled, Geralt helped the Queen to her feet, and Queen Calanthe strode over to Princess Pavetta, declaring that the Princess would mary Lord Duny and that she herself would marry Lord Eist, coinciding to the demonstration of fated power in her hall.

Not one to hesitate overlong on her decisions, Queen Calanthe quickly prepared a handfasting ceremony for herself and Lord Eist, followed soon after by one for Princess Pavetta and Lord Duny. After the ceremony, in which Lord Duny’s curse was cured by the kiss of love, the courtiers began to mingle, and Geralt, after obtaining a dismissal from Queen Calanthe, headed for the doors of the hall, intending to retire to her chambers. Before she could leave, however, she was stopped by Lord Duny.

“Wait, before you leave,” the lord placid his hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “You saved my life. I must repay you.”

Geralt shook her head. “I am duty-bound to protect those of the Cintran royal family, of which you are now a part, you owe me nothing.”

“Duty that nevertheless required you to disobey an order from your Queen. No, I cannot start a new life in the shadow of a debt, whether it be life or merely loyalty. Name your reward, and if it is within my power I shall see it done.”

Geralt cast about for something she could claim to appease the Lord. As Witcher of Cintra, she rarely wanted for anything; the Queen provided her with all the tools of her trade, as well as anything she might need day-to-day. And she would need to serve under this Lord, so despite his proclamation, she needed to be politic about whatever she requested. Finally, Geralt claimed Law of Suprise, figuring that the man had likely made all his earth-shattering discoveries already. Perhaps Geralt would end up with a hunting dog or a horse from whatever small township Lord Duny ran.

Of course, no sooner than she had uttered those words, Princess Pavetta began to vomit, holding her stomach. Queen Calanthe rushed to tend to the Princess, but after a few moments it became clear that this was no illness, but the evening sickness that often took hold of those that were pregnant. The Queen looked over at Geralt, with fire burning in her eyes.

“Geralt the White Wolf, Betrayer of Cintra, you are no longer welcome in my court.” Her words rang out across the hall. “Leave my kingdom, and never return on pain of death. From this day forth, Cintra will have no Witcher in her halls.”

Geralt took the words like a blow to the chest, stumbling out of the hall. She allowed herself only moments to stand in the hallway, wounded. Geralt had shaped her life around her duty, and without it, she felt unmoored. She took a deep breath, gathered her wits, and returned to her chambers, packing swiftly and only taking the things that would be of no use to anyone else, such as her potions and hunting supplies. Packs in hand, she headed for the stables, where she made quick work of brushing and tacking her horse Roach. Moments later, she was mounted and headed out of Cintra, possibly forever.

As she passed through the city gates, she heard the bard from earlier come up behind her.

“Whew! I think this has the makings of my greatest ballad yet.” the bard called out merrily. “Mind if I travel with you for a ways?”

Geralt was in no mood for his flirtations. “Go away,” she snarled, nudging Roach into a trot.

“I won’t be but a silent companion. Look, the roads are safer in groups, and I know all the best taverns outside of Cintra. You, m’lady, could use a guide, and I could use a muse. And what better muse than a Witcher cast out of her kingdom? The tales of adventure, of destiny and death, heroics and heartbreak.”

Geralt slowed Roach to a halt, dismounted, and stormed towards the bard. She waited until she was right up in his face, and then, with all her inhuman might, punched him hard in the balls. She stalked back to Roach, remounted, and headed off again, ignoring the wheezing breaths behind her.

“So I’ll take that as a yes, then?”

Despite her best efforts, the bard continued to follow her for several hours. He was still there, chattering along and making a nuisance of himself when she rode through one of the border towns. She had no intention of stopping there, much like she had not stopped in either of the other two villages that she had passed through. Queen Calanthe had ordered her out of Cintra, and she intended to be gone as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, the alderman of the town had different ideas. He flagged her down as she rode through the outskirts, clearly recognizing her by her pure black armor.

“Ah M’lady Witcher, I’m so glad you received our missive to the queen!” He blinked, a bit confused, as he caught sight of Jaskier, but quickly barrelled on. “The devil has stolen all of our grain, and we’ve not enough saved to last the coming winter.”

Geralt blinked slowly, taking his words in, and then nodded. Though the Queen had ordered her to depart, she could not leave the villagers to handle whatever monster was causing problems on their own. She would deal with it quickly, and be on her way out of Cintra before nightfall, surely that would suffice? She listened as the alderman laid out the details of the missing grain, and then whirled Roach around, heading for the mountains. The alderman waved her off with a relieved smile, nodding politely to the bard as he followed her once again.

When she reached the area the alderman had mentioned, she tethered Roach to a tree with the saddlebags and continued on foot. The bard kept pace behind her, muttering a steady stream of comments. Eventually, she located hoofprints and started tracking them, right as a rock hit her in the head. She glanced up and spotted a hooved creature charging at her, half-man and half-goat.

“Leave me be!” the creature shrieked tussling with Geralt.

“You talk,” she replied, eyebrows raised.

“Of course I talk!”

The creature kept fighting her, tussling back and forth, though the comments never let up. Geralt quickly realized that the creature was intelligent, and therefore no monster despite its looks.

“I won’t kill you, but you can’t stay here.” She offered it and then realized that in the midst of her battle, the bard had fallen uncharacteristically silent.

“Neither can you,” it replied, and then the world went dark.

Geralt awoke in a dark cave, clearly some sort of storage based on the three sacks in the corner, bound back-to-back with another, likely the bard. This was confirmed when the dratted nuisance opened his mouth, speaking before she could properly scout out their surroundings.

“This is the part where we escape.”

Geralt grunted. “This is the part where they kill us.”

Two elves appeared, one kicking at the bard, and searched Geralt and the bard, removing weapons and the bard’s lute while speaking in Elder. When the bard protested, one of the elves kicked him again.

Geralt snarled. She did not like the bard, but there was no point in kicking a human who was already bound. “Leave off! He’s just a bard.”

Luckily, that diverted their attention, and the elf that had been kicking the bard turned to hit Geralt in her face. 

“You don’t deserve the air you breathe.” The elf reared back and hit her again. “Everything you touch, you destroy.”

Geralt headbutted the elf that was hitting him, sending her reeling backwards and coughing up blood. Geralt watched her closely as two others came into the room: the goat creature from earlier and another elf. The two threw a few verbal barbs at the bard, who returned in kind, but Geralt tuned them out, watching the elf on the ground. The elf wiped the blood off her lips and turned, joining the conversation.

“What’s two humans in the ground when countless elves have died?”

Geralt snorted. “One human. And you can let him go.”

The elf that had entered last turned to face her, and recognition dawned on his face. “The White Wolf of Cintra, the Lioness’ enforcer. You think I should let the bard run free, telling tales to your queen so she can resume her war against us?”

“The lesser evil. No matter what you choose, you’ll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me.”

He laughed, high and sharp. “And what would you know about lesser evils? You are nothing but a tame wolf, supping on whatever scraps the Lioness tosses you, murdering my people on her orders. “The Great Cleansing”, humans call it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow… our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don’t wish to bury anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I’m Filavandrel of the Edge of the World. And you are nothing but a toothless, tame wolf.” Filavandrel stepped forwards, a knife raised in his hand.

Geralt nodded, and Filavandrel paused. “Perhaps I did not do as much as could, and I am certainly to blame for a great deal of your people’s deaths. But Queen Calanthe only ordered me to remove you from her land, and when I could I sent your people to the border, with enough supplies to find a safe haven. And now that the queen has cast me out, well, if you must kill me… I am ready. But I am not human, and I am certainly not  _ tame. _ ”

Filavandrel lowered his dagger, and looked at Geralt for a long moment, before sighing. “No, I suppose you are not. Still, this leaves us at something of an impasse; I cannot let you go to tell the villagers about our presence, and you cannot leave us here in peace.”

Geralt smiled, slow and feral. “There is a refuge town, half a day’s ride east of the border and a day south, hidden in the mountains. They welcome elves there freely and answer to no king. If you head there, the people in Cintra can have their grain back, and you can have your freedom.”

Filavandrel stood stock still for a long moment, and then his blade flashed through the air. The ropes binding Geralt and the bard fell to the floor, as the three elves and the goat-creature vanished back into the depths of the cave. Geralt grabbed one of the sacks in the corner, confirming that it was the grain she expected it to be, before heaving it the stunned bard. As she hefted the other two sacks, Filavandrel reappeared, holding out a lute.

“For your bard,” he smiled, dropping the strap over the bard’s head. “As recompense for the one we broke.” And then he vanished without another word.

Geralt and the bard carried the sacks of grain back to Roach, and Geralt started strapping them on to her horse to carry back into town. When she finished, she stepped up next to the bard and jabbed her finger into his chest. 

“Not a word to anyone of what was said there, do you understand?” Her eyes narrowed as the bard nodded, and she continued. “Not a hint in a song, or a brag to some fair maiden you wish to win over; if I hear you’ve let anything slip, you’ll wish I had let Filavandrel kill you back there.”

The bard swallowed deeply and nodded hard. “The lute more than pays for my silence, even if I were inclined to mention it, which I’m not, of course, but if I was.”

Geralt sighed deeply and headed back to the town to return the grain. The alderman was highly grateful when she brought the grain to him, asking off-handedly about the devil. She reassured him that he would no longer need to worry about it, and was pleased when the bard, who had continued to follow her, made no mention of the half-truth. She turned to leave, but the bard stopped her with a quick hand on her arm.

“The lady Witcher did you quite a service,” the bard said, raising his eyebrows at the alderman. “You know, the queen was not planning on sending her.”

Geralt turned towards the bard, confused, but the alderman seemed to know what he was implying.

“Ah, of course, of course,” the alderman rustled around in his pocket for a minute, and then pulled out a pouch and handed it to Geralt. “Fifty ducats should ease your journey.”

The bard opened his mouth again, but Geralt quickly accepted the pouch and tugged the bard out of the door with her.

“And what was that about?” She hissed as she started down the road, grabbing Roach’s lead.

“Payment for services,” the bard chuckled. “You are not in the queen’s employ anymore m’lady, which means you need money to pay for things.”

Geralt hummed. She would not admit aloud that the bard was right, but she had not considered that many of her expenses were often paid for by the queen. She stopped and turned towards him.

“I will allow you to travel with me for now, but let’s get one thing straight. I will not be sleeping with you.”

The bard laughed once more, loud and merry. “Have it your way! You make the finest muse I’ve seen, in or out of bed. In fact, I’ve been inspired already!” He started humming a quick tune, but it wasn’t until the lyrics started that Geralt rolled her eyes and leapt up onto her horse’s back to put as much distance between herself and her erstwhile traveling companion as she possibly could.

_ When a humble bard / Graced to ride along / With Geralt of Cintra / Along came this song / From when the White Wolf fought / A silver tongued devil / His army of elves / At his hooves did they revel / They came after me / With masterful deceit / Broke down my lute / And they kicked in my teeth / While the devil’s horns / Minced our tender meat / And so cried the witcher / “He can’t be bleat”/ Toss a coin to your witcher / O Valley of Plenty / O Valley of Plenty, oh-oh-oh / Toss a coin to your witcher / O Valley of Plenty / At the edge of the world / Fight the mighty horn / That bashes and breaks you / And brings you to mourn / He thrust every elf / Far back on the shelf / High up on the mountain / From whence it came / He wiped out your pest / Got kicked in his chest / He’s a friend of humanity / So give him the rest / That’s my epic tale / Our champion prevailed / Defeated the villain / Now pour him some ale / Toss a coin to your witcher / O Valley of Plenty / O Valley of Plenty, oh-oh-oh / Toss a coin to your witcher / A friend of humanity / Toss a coin to your witcher / O Valley of Plenty / O Valley of Plenty, oh-oh-oh / Toss a coin to your witcher / A friend of humanity / Toss a coin to your witcher / O Valley of Plenty / O Valley of Plenty, oh-oh-oh / Toss a coin to your witcher / A friend of humanity _

Geralt had been traveling with the bard, whose name she had learned was Jaskier, for almost a week, leaving Cintra as fast as she could, and then turning north. Her plan, though she had not shared it, was to return to Kaer Morhen, where she had trained and undergone the Trial of Grasses, in the hopes that they would know what to do with a banished Witcher. Perhaps another kingdom would like to host a Wolf Witcher, or maybe a noble. If it had been even 30 years ago, she could have had a place training the newest batch of Witchers, but the Viper School had raided Kaer Morhen, stealing their mutagens and killing many of the Wolves. As it was, there were only a handful of Wolf Witchers left, and only Vesemir lived at Kaer Morhen full-time.

The worst, though, was that Geralt was getting sick of life on the road. Sure, she had often ridden out in pursuit of monsters across Cintra, but Cintra was only a day’s ride in any direction, so Geralt never slept rough for more than a handful of nights at a time. Now, every night was spent sleeping out of doors or in taverns (towns threatened by monsters often welcomed a Witcher in with open arms), neither of which were anywhere near as comfortable as her old quarters in Cintra had been. But she was determined to get used to it, especially since the trade-off came with the ability to handle monsters as she saw fit, instead of indiscriminate killing that Queen Calanthe had always ordered.

And so she only grumbled to herself a little bit as she settled into her bedroll on the forest floor. Unfortunately, she had misjudged how far away Jaskier was, and he scooted his bedroll over to her, laughing.

“The forest floor is a harder bed than you are accustomed too, eh m’lady?”

Geralt let out a sharp “Hmm,” frustrated.

“It’s too bad there’s not a nice castle where we could-” The bard stopped, and then suddenly sat upright. “Geralt, odd question, but what’s your opinion on witches?”

Geralt shrugged. She had not encountered very many witches in her time, as they tended to steer clear of Cintra due to Queen Calanthe’s known hatred of magic. The few she had encountered seemed to be fairly helpful, if a little prone to twisting a situation to best benefit themselves.

Jaskier made a face, dimly illuminated by the dying glow of the fire. “No, your right, that would be weird.”

“If it gets me a night of adequate sleep, I think I’d be inclined to like anyone, witch, commoner, or selkiemore.” Geralt said, and then rolled over and tried once more to sleep, putting the odd conversation out of her mind.

The next morning, Jaskier insisted that they take a detour to the west. Since they were well north of Cintra’s border, Geralt reluctantly agreed. Around mid-afternoon, Jaskier’s detour led them to the gates of a small keep. Jaskier nodded at the guards, and they opened the door, which Jaskier strode through, Geralt following behind. Jaskier showed Geralt to the stables and helped get Roach settled, before leading her back through the oddly empty keep. At one large, ornate door, Jaskier paused and banged on the wood.

“Hey Yenn, you terrible lout, you couldn’t even be bothered to come out to greet me? I know your wards told you I was here, or the guards did if your casting failed again.”

The door slammed open, revealing a tall, dark-haired man, solidly built but with an ethereal air.

“And expose my ears early to your terrible ruckus? I would say your racket was as unwanted as the crow of a rooster, but that would be giving the roosters far too much credit. And speaking of crows, the crow's feet on your face are certainly new.”

Geralt blinked, confused. Jaskier had mentioned that he was friends with the owner of this keep, but the two seemed far more keen on insulting one another. Presumably, this was the witch that Jaskier had mentioned, but Geralt was growing more and more skeptical that he would let them stay, even overnight.

The witch gave Geralt an appraising glance, raising his eyebrows at Jaskier. “And you’ve brought a friend this time,” he turned Geralt, “And you are?”

Jaskier slung his arm around Geralt’s shoulder for a moment before Geralt shrugged it off. “This is Geralt of Cintra, the White Wolf of the West. ”

The witch snorted. “As if a Witcher would stoop to traveling around with the likes of you, or be willing to visit the likes of me, much less one sworn to a different kingdom. I’ve not been that gullible in a long time.”

Geralt opened her mouth to defend Jaskier when a terrible screech rent the air. Her hands flew to her scabbards, and the witch raised his eyebrows.

“Well, you’ve certainly got good instincts,” he said, impressed.

Jaskier sighed, pinching his nose. “Yennifer,  _ please _ tell me that is not the same griffin that was causing problems for the nearby village the last time I was here.”

The witch shrugged, smirking, and Jaskier groaned, clearly taking that as confirmation.

Geralt didn’t quite know what to make of the two of them, but she did know how to handle monsters. Griffins in particular were highly food-motivated, and the domestic livestock that most villages kept, with minimal protections, made for much easier pickings than wild prey. With a bit of fortification, however, and a couple of pointed attacks, she could easily drive it away from inhabited areas.

And then a thought struck Geralt, in the midst of her half-formed plan. Surely King Foltest had a court Witcher, whose duty it was to handle such things? Geralt rarely had to deal with politics and didn’t really keep up with any of the Witchers from other Schools. Temaria, if she recalled correctly, was Cat territory, and there was a great deal of bad blood between the Wolves and the Cats.

Well, Temaria might not be her kingdom (Geralt was sure that she would always think of Cintra as her kingdom, even if she was never allowed back there again), but a griffin posed a serious danger to any village. And if she got to one-up a Cat, well that would just be a bonus.

Geralt lifted her chin, and look directly at Yennifer. “Has the village sent word to the king, requesting the aid of his Witcher?”

“The king?” Yennifer scoffed. “The king would sooner see this land destroyed than send any aid to a  _ witch _ .”

Geralt grunted. While that did make sense, it also raised more questions. “And how did a  _ witch _ come to be running a keep? I thought most of you preferred the lone wanderer lifestyle.”

Yennifer waved his hand, dismissive. “Traded it as recompense for curing the surrounding area of a withering curse. And I was never one for silly things like ‘other people’s expectations’.”

Geralt narrowed her eyes, trying to decide if Yennifer was flirting or simply bragging. Before she could respond, however, Jaskier waved his hand in between the two of them, drawing their attention.

“Hello? More pressing issues?” His voice was thick with sarcasm. “Yennifer, you have literally had this griffin problem for three months now, and, wow, would you look at that, Geralt just so happens to be trained in dealing with things like that. Maybe we could save the ‘getting to know you’ for… literally any other time?”

Yennifer glared at the bard, but waved his hand sharply, opening up a portal. Geralt stepped through it, just in time for the griffin to come diving out of the sky towards a nearby sheep. Geralt luged towards it with her silver sword outstretched and clipped the underside of its wing, shocking it into dropping the sheep. She raced after it as it wheeled around towards a different part of the flock, and as it dove again she lifted her sword again, bracing it against her shoulder. She scored a scraping hit against its belly and staggered back a pace as it shrieked in pain. She landed a couple more blows, carefully measured to enrage it, and then steadied herself as the griffin whirled around, diving directly at her. As its talons collided with the flat of her blade, she drove the pommel of her sword up into the delicate underside of its wing. With an ear-splitting scream, it back-winged away from her and took off into the sky. 

Geralt turned back around, wiping her blade on her armored skirt to remove the small amount of griffin blood before resheathing it. A quick jog brought her over to the edge of the pasture, where Yennifer was leaning up against the fence with a distinctly unimpressed look on his face.

“Some Witcher you are, if all you can do is drive it off,” he scoffed. “I could have done as much with a few handfuls of fire.”

Geralt brushed a strand of hair out of her face, unperturbed. “Hmm. That last strike fractured its ulna; by the time it makes it back to its nest, its muscles will have done enough damage to keep it grounded through winter. That is more than enough time for your villagers to stud the pasture with spiked poles and prevent its return.”

The two glared at each other with narrowed eyes for a long moment, neither willing to concede. Jaskier clapped his hands together sharply.

“Great!” he said, voice full of false cheer. “Glad that’s all settled then. Yenn, if you’d be so kind as to portal us back to the keep, I supposed Geralt and I will be on our way.”

Yennifer smiled, slow and vicious. “Now Jas, that’s no way to treat someone who has done me such a favor.” His voice dripped sarcasm, and he never once took his violet eyes off of Geralt. “No, I should extend my hospitality as gratitude. In fact, Lady Witcher, I absolutely insist that you stay through the winter,” his eyebrow raised, challenging. “That is, if your queen can spare you.”

Geralt did some quick analysis, as Jaskier gaped at his friend. Yennifer’s keep was close enough to the Cintran border for her to keep an ear on any news from the royal family and close enough for her to return if Queen Calanthe lifted her banishment. And staying at Yennifer’s keep, even with his unassailable pride, would be less of a political nightmare than trying to find another king, another court. Not to mention that if the Temarian Witcher had been avoiding the area for any length of time, there were likely far worse dangers than a simple griffin lurking about. Geralt nodded her acceptance, and Yennifer portaled the three of them back to his keep, with Jaskier still gaping his mouth open and closed like a fish.

And so Geralt spent the winter at Brugge Keep, clearing monsters out of the surrounding forests. Unsurprisingly, she had been right about the griffin not returning, and as days dragged into weeks and months, Yennifer’s scathing comments lost their cutting edge, becoming more of a sharp comradery than true antagonism. By the time spring began, the three had settled into the rhythm that would shape their lives for years to come; they would each venture out on their own tasks for a while (Geralt to her monster hunting, her aid expanding to more and more of the surrounding countryside; Jaskier to ply his bardic trade at various taverns and courts - he made sure to play in Cintra as often as he could, carrying news back for Geralt; and Yennifer to, well, whatever he felt might advance his goals. He always claimed it was curse-breaking, but given that he always returned with some new talisman or treasure, Geralt was skeptical.), but always returning to the keep to rest and recuperate. Months turned into years, spring fading into summer and autumn, and Geralt realized, that although she might always ache for the duty she had lost, she had found herself a new home.

**Author's Note:**

> And then, of course, Nilfguard invades the Continent with their massive army of Viper Witchers (you didn’t think the Vipers were stealing mutagens for FUN, did you?), and Cintra falls, and Geralt’s very sad because she was not there to protect the royals as was her duty. And the Wolf, Bear, and Cat Schools band together at Sodden to try and repel the invasion but ultimately fail. Geralt, badly wounded in the battle, gets to meet Ciri, who ran into Yennifer during the battle and decimated a whole platoon of Vipers with her scream. The retreat to Yennifer’s heavily fortified keep, and try to figure out how to deal with Nilfguard while Jaskier dotes on Geralt’s Child Suprise. (And coos about how alike they look - femme!Geralt looks Even More Related to Ciri than her canon counterpart)


End file.
